My Shrine - Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

I became dividedSelfish-side, and humbleGave the rein to latter: “Sure cannot…”

My softness gave friend the power: “We live in Canada; forbidden is jungle….” Took breath and refreshed: “Can take you to Talish…”

Embarrassed; felt great: “I have said what I wantMy words are my graveThey must be scatteredShall become tombstoneRound the world, all overIn such case I will have Some masses of gravesNot just one under rock, Nor shrine or unknown.”

My body, in bone formCan be found in roots ofA tree when fallenBicentennial or thousand.